


But I can take bullets to the heart

by Marishna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek Has Issues, Feels, M/M, Masturbation, POV Derek Hale, Public Hand Jobs, Stiles is Legal, Stiles is Not a Virgin, Texting, Texts From Last Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 19:37:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4032094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marishna/pseuds/Marishna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek closed his eyes and resisted the urge to hit himself in the face with his phone.</p>
<p>Which <i>dinged!</i> again.</p>
<p>
  <i>u have read receipts turned on, dude. i can see u read my text</i>
</p>
<p>Fucking fuck, what the fuck.</p>
<p>
  <i>im coming over there</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	But I can take bullets to the heart

**Author's Note:**

> stydia on LJ prompted me with this TFLN: "This is random, but did i give u a handjob in the middle of the night or was that a dream?"
> 
> Day 28 of Merry Month of Masturbation

If it weren't for the text message he might not have remembered for a while.

Like, maybe a whole minute after waking up-while.

Instead his phone _dinged!_ a text message alert and for fuck's sake couldn't his stupid werewolf hearing be less-than-stellar for _once_?

Derek rolled out of bed and snagged his phone off the bedside table, thumbing it open while any number of possibilities about who could be texting him this early could be.

But it wasn't any of them and he knew it, even as he read the message.

_This is random, but did i give u a handjob in the middle of the night or was that a dream?_

Derek considered texting back a, _Nope, totally dreaming_ and ending it at that. But after the Nogitsune and Stiles' issues to this day with sleeping and knowing dreams from reality it would be too cruel a lie. If he found out he'd never forgive Derek.

He might not anyway.

Maybe he could say it was someone else. When Derek picked Stiles up the previous night Scott, Danny, and Boyd were at the party for sure, probably any number of the rest of the pack, too. But then, Danny would be the only one who would have been able to get drunk and therefore the only one who might stand a chance of being foggy-headed enough to be able to plausibly pin this on and now he was getting into evil villain territory.

Plus Danny was nice.

And if Derek tried to pin it on Danny it would probably backfire on him and he and Stiles would start dating and get engaged and married and have babies and grow old and fucking die together.

Derek closed his eyes and resisted the urge to hit himself in the face with his phone.

Which _dinged!_ again.

_u have read receipts turned on, dude. i can see u read my text_

Fucking fuck, what the fuck.

_im coming over there_

Derek fumbled with his phone and hit the call button. Stiles picked up immediately.

"That's not a good idea," Derek blurted out, but his voice was still sleepy and he sounded raspy and _hot_ , goddammit.

"Why?" Stiles demanded. "Answer my question. Although I guess I don't need you to, your response is answer enough."

"Stiles—" Derek started.

Stiles cut him off, angrily. "What? Going to give me the speech now, Derek? Say it was all a mistake and I'm too young, blah blah blah?"

Derek blinked, caught off guard. He sank down on the edge of his bed. "What? No. I mean, yes. To the first part. I mean." Derek rubbed a hand over his eyes tiredly. He hadn't slept very well after dropping Stiles off, watching from the car to make sure he got in his house okay. Hadn't wanted to walk him to the door even though Stiles sure wanted him to. And okay, Derek _wanted_ but no. Wasn't happening.

"You _are_ too young and when you sober up you'll realize it _was_ a mistake. You were drunk and I shouldn't have let you—"

"I would have sucked you off, you know," Stiles interrupted in a conversational tone. "Would have made you lean the seat back so I could really get in there. Would've been cool to make you keep driving while I did it, too, because I suspect that with your werewolfitude you'd still be able to focus on the road."

"Stiles," Derek said lowly, then jerked when he realized his eyes slipped closed and he was _imagining_ what Stiles was saying. He repeated in a sterner tone. "Stiles."

He was so happy this was being done over the phone. Not that he wanted to be doing it at all, that is.

"I'm almost _twenty_ now, Derek. I've sewed some oats and seen what else is out there, who else, and done all the things my dad and you wanted me to do and what I was ‘supposed' to do. And here I am."

"Stiles, you were _drunk_!" Derek insisted.

"I couldn't drive home, I wasn't plastered, Derek. I was in full control of myself and knew what I was doing."

"Then why'd you ask if it was a dream?"

"To see how you'd react."

"Gee, did I pass your test?" Derek asked sarcastically.

"With flying colours," Stiles replied, just as snottily. "And now that we've worked through the age issue, and consent there's only one thing I can think that's a problem."

Stiles' tone changed then. There was hint of a waver in his voice, a hardness like he was steeling himself.

"What?"

"You're ashamed at the thought of being with me," Stiles said, and Derek imagined him with his head high, as if challenging Derek to fight him.

Derek laughed.

"Don't fucking _laugh_ at me," Stiles said angrily.

"I'm not laughing at _you_ , moron. If anyone's going to be judged of the two of us it would be me, don't worry."

"I'm not worried. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Last night I thought... I thought." Stiles trailed off and Derek could imagine him chewing on his thumbnail like he did when he was working something over in his head.

"Thought what?" Derek prompted softly, knowing he should end the conversation.

Stiles took a deep breath and sighed. "Like this was it, that it was the time. It was finally happening for us."

Derek blinked. "You thought this would happen?"

"I've been _waiting_ for it. I thought that finally last night... the way you looked at me when I had my hand on your cock, that wasn't just lust and you can't tell me it was, Derek."

Now Derek was silent, replaying the scene from the night before. How Stiles spilled into the car and grinned at him, all danced out and loose limbed from Lydia's party. How he laughed when Stiles begged to be taken through the drive thru for curly fries and a milkshake and teased him until Derek got some for himself, too. 

They ate and talked in the car, parked by a playground in the dark, and Derek laughed at Stiles and was _happy_. Happy he was home from school and thriving and looked healthy and was with _him_. Something in the way Derek looked over at him must have hit Stiles just the right way and he reached over, cupped Derek's cheek for a long moment, then reached for his pants button and had Derek's dick in his hands in seconds.

It would have been so easy to put a stop to it and let Stiles down gently, laugh off any awkwardness and take him home. But the look on Stiles' face when he watched himself stroke his cock was addicting for Derek. He looked intrigued and like he was discovering something for the first time. Derek spit in his own palm and added his hand to help and the noise Stiles made—fuck.   
   
Derek was hard again just thinking about it.

He came embarrassingly quickly, but Stiles didn't seem to care. And Derek sure as fuck didn't care once Stiles licked his own hand clean, watching Derek watch him.

"Derek?" Stiles asked and he sounded small, hesitant. 

Fuck fuck fuck.

Derek cleared his throat. "You're right."

Silence.

"Stiles?"

"Can I come over?" Stiles asked, sounding breathless.

Derek thought for a split second. "Yes."

"Open the door."

"What?"

"Your door. Open it."

Derek slid across the loft floors and pulled the door open just in time for Stiles to clear the top step of the stairs. Stiles launched himself at Derek who caught him easily, swinging him around into the loft and holding him tight.

"Are you done being a fucking idiot?" Stiles asked, voice muffled against Derek's neck.

"Probably no more than you're done being an annoying asshole," Derek replied but he was laughing and Stiles relaxed in his arms.

"Fine. Take me to bed, then," Stiles replied, wriggling until Derek put him down.

"Stiles..." Derek started hesitantly but Stiles waved him off.

"To sleep. I had a long night and had to jerk myself off like, three times before I could doze off, for some reason."

"Did you now?" Derek asked, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe when I wake up someone else could take care of that for me?" Looking at Derek through his thick eyelashes.

Derek took his hand and started to lead him across the floor back to his bed. "We might be able to do something about that."


End file.
